


Insomnia

by maqcy



Series: Whumptober 2018 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cruciatus, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Master/Slave, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Slavery, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slave Harry, Slavery, Whump, Whumptober, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy
Summary: Voldemort wins and Draco is given Harry Potter as a war-prize, but only after Bellatrix is finished with him. Draco is kinder than Harry could ever have hoped for.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of whumptober! i'm stretching the 'insomnia' prompt a little here but shh I won't tell if you won't and it's definitely whumpy so... *awkward thumbs up*

Harry woke, his breathing loud and panicked, to feel a hand on his hair, stroking gently. He forced himself still and tried to slow his thundering heartbeat.

“Nightmare again?” a soft voice came out of the dark. Draco. Harry’s owner.

Harry nodded, knowing that Draco could feel the movement. He heard Draco exhale in a sigh and not so long ago, he would have flinched. Bellatrix had been creative in her “training” of him, as she called it, after Lord Voldemort won the war a little over a month ago. But Harry had since been gifted to Draco, as a war-prize, and Draco had yet to so much as raise his voice, let alone a hand, to him.

Harry heard Draco move away from the bed that he had insisted Harry sleep on and Harry cringed to realise that he must have been loud enough for Draco to hear him from his room down the hall.

If Harry had still had his wand perhaps he could have cast a silencing spell over the bed Draco had given him, so as not to disturb his owner like this, and for the second night running too, but of course Harry didn’t. Lord Voldemort had his wand, and Harry expected that it had been snapped and discarded long ago.

“Lumos,” Draco said and Harry narrowed his eyes against the glow of the lights. He saw Draco’s narrow, upright figure stood by the door, and he slid out of bed to kneel. It made him acutely uncomfortable to be sitting on furniture whilst his owner was standing.

“Come down and have a drink with me,” Draco said evenly, sounding as collected as he always did.

“Yes, Draco,” Harry managed, his throat sore, probably from yelling out in his sleep. He kept his head respectfully lowered.

Draco would not allow Harry to call him ‘master’, or even ‘sir’, and since it was one of the few rules that Draco had actually imposed, Harry tried his damnedest to get it right, even as Bellatrix had spent a month beating Harry’s inferiority, his lack of personhood, into him. It was exhausting to have the different parts of him warring with one another: his angry, prideful pre-war self wanting to push boundaries, where the obedient slave that Bellatrix had shoved into him made him nervous at just the thought of disagreeing with his owner, let alone disobeying. And that was not to mention the insidious magic she’d put into place, some of which Harry didn’t remember her putting on him, and couldn’t guess at the full extent of, only that he knew it caused him pain when he did things that it didn’t like. The rest of the time he was too jaded to consider anything but his own immediate survival.

Draco headed downstairs and Harry came quickly to his feet to follow him down. He should be the one to ready whatever drink Draco wanted, but Draco wouldn’t allow it.

“Take a seat there,” Draco said, pointing at a specific chair and so Harry sat reluctantly down. The last time Draco had told him to sit, Harry had knelt on the floor and Draco had sighed. Bellatrix had repeatedly tricked him into sitting on the furniture and then hurt him for it. Harry didn’t understand the change of rules, but he was trying. Pleasing his owner was the most important thing to the slave that she had created, even as the old, rebellious part of him knew that this wasn’t him, wasn’t who he used to be. But they’d lost and this was his life now.

Draco put a cup of something hot and sweet-smelling down in front of Harry before moving to sit on the other side of the table with a drink of his own. Harry curled his fingers hesitantly around the mug. Perhaps it had a sleeping potion in it.

Harry flicked his eyes up to Draco’s, just checking again that he was allowed to drink this, even though every sign indicated that that was Draco’s wish.

“Go ahead,” Draco said. He was frowning slightly and Harry’s stomach twisted a little with nervousness, but he obediently sipped at the sweet drink. It was nice; creamy and soothing to his throat. Even if it was drugged, Harry didn’t mind.

“What do you dream of, Harry?” Draco asked and Harry tensed. The _bad_ part of him wanted to say, ‘nothing’, or ‘it’s not important’, but Bellatrix’s magic made it painful to lie and Harry tried to hide his wince at the beginnings of a sharp pain in his ribs as he didn’t answer straight away.

“I’m sorry, m-Draco,” _don’t call him master_ , he reminded himself firmly, “I can’t remember.”

Draco shot him a look that was incredulous, as if he didn’t believe him and Harry felt faintly wounded for a moment. He knew he was bad, that Draco had no reason to believe him, but Harry was trying his best. And did Draco know nothing about the magic that forbid Harry from lying, or was he just testing it?

“You remember nothing, even though you’re screaming most nights?” Draco pressed and Harry paled. He’d fucked up clearly, but he _couldn’t_ remember, he couldn’t. But his owner was irritated and Harry slid off the chair to kneel to the floor. Privileges were removed when he had upset his owner. _Sitting on a chair isn’t a privilege_ , his pre-war self scoffed, but Harry shushed it. _We’re in enough shit as it is_ , he told himself.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said softly. “I can’t remember the dreams. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit Harry,” Draco said and this time Harry did flinch, but Draco didn’t hit him, or, worse, take out of his wand. “Sit up and finish your drink, okay?”

“Yes, Draco,” Harry murmured and hesitantly climbed back up. Draco was silent as they both drank in silence. Harry didn’t fidget, as much as he wanted to.

Draco exhaled heavily, “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “This whole thing, the whole goddamn war was so fucked up.” Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was talking to him or just talking aloud. Bellatrix did that sometimes, monologuing without expecting a response. She never did it so softly though. “Lord Voldemort has so many plans and visions but I’m not sure the rest of us thought there was even a chance we would win.” Draco swallowed, “Maybe that’s why it feels so wrong.”

Draco was silent for several moments. “You’re so different,” Draco said, just as Harry had finished the last of his drink. “What happened to you? What did my aunt do?”

Harry felt anxious at Draco’s questions because he didn’t know how to answer them, “What would you like to know, Draco?” he said softly, hoping that was an acceptable response.

Draco was silent and Harry worried that he’d gotten it wrong. “I’m not sure I even want to know,” Draco said then. “Does that make me a terrible person? You’ve had- something done to you and I dunno if I even want to hear about it. Fuck.” He laughed with noticeable bitterness and Harry twisted his hands in his lap, uncertain if he was supposed to speak, or what he was supposed to say. He hadn’t been trained for this. He felt resentment for just a moment, angry that Bellatrix had forced him into this obedience and Draco wouldn’t even just let Harry do what he was supposed to and _obey_. Was this whole thing a test? Would Draco continue to treat Harry like this, like he was still a person and not a loathed prisoner of war, just to see when he would break? Harry swallowed. He didn’t know what to do. He felt sick, the sweet drink making it worse. He didn’t like this; being on the same level as his owner. It was wrong, bad, wrong.

He came off the chair and back to his knees. The magic rolled angrily inside him, because Draco had _told_ him to sit on the chair, but Harry couldn’t, he couldn’t.

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Draco muttered and Harry flinched at the scrape of Draco’s chair over the floor. Had he finally made Draco angry at him? “It’s the middle of the night, I can’t do this right now.”

Harry leaned forwards to press his hands to the cool floor, “I’m sorry, Draco,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered and then he crouched down beside Harry and Harry held himself rigid, trying not to flinch. Draco touched his shoulder lightly, wrapping his arm around Harry’s back, but there was no pain, no wand-point in his ribs. Draco pulled him close, putting them chest to chest, and Harry tensed. He didn’t know what to do but he was shaking and he wanted so badly to put his arms around Draco too. He was starved for- anything, but Draco was his owner- but Harry wanted so badly- maybe Draco wanted it -but Draco was his owner, it wasn’t appropriate.

Just as Harry finally brought his arms up to very lightly touch Draco’s shoulders, Draco was pulling away and Harry quickly dropped his hands, like he’d been burnt. He was always doing the wrong fucking thing.

But Draco just stilled, pulling back to look at Harry’s face, though Harry obediently kept his eyes down. He blinked when Draco touched his face gently. “It’s okay, Harry,” Draco said, his voice quiet and strained. “I swear, I’ll make it okay.”

Harry tried to keep still, to hold himself together, to be _good_ , but he could feel himself crumbling. “I don’t understand,” he whispered and then he was crying and he pressed his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he choked, “I don’t understand, please.”

Draco put his arms back around Harry, pulling him close and Harry leaned gratefully into him. Even if Draco punished him for this later, he couldn’t make himself stop and he just shuddered, crying, in Draco’s arms while Draco stroked his back.

“I know we hated each other in school,” Draco said quietly. “But I never wanted this, Harry. Believe me, I never wanted this. We were just- on different sides.”

All Harry heard was, ‘I never wanted this’ and he held himself rigid. After a moment, Draco eased away and Harry dried his face on his sleeve even as he kept his eyes lowered.

“Can- can I ask, Draco,” he paused but Draco nodded encouragingly, “are you going to send me back?”

“Back?” Draco repeated, “To Bellatrix you mean?”

Harry nodded. By the time Bellatrix had deemed him broken, she had become bored with him and sent him to Draco with only a house elf and a note. Harry didn’t know what the parchment had said but it couldn’t have explained much because Draco hadn’t seemed to know what to do with him, and still didn’t. But Harry expected that if he were to be returned, things would get incredibly unpleasant for him. Unbearably so. He thought he might be sick but shoved it down.

“Merlin, no, Harry,” Draco said and Harry’s head came up in relief and shock before he could stop himself. But Draco only gave him a tight, watery smile and Harry swallowed and looked quickly away.

“Thank you,” he managed. “I’ll be better, I’ll be good-”

“Harry, stop, it’s okay,” Draco said, touching Harry’s cheek gently. “You’re fine. Just- I’m not going to hurt you, please try to believe me. I don’t _want_ to.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

Draco got slowly to his feet and though Harry tensed slightly, it wasn’t in expectation of Draco hurting him. With a quiet clatter, Draco cleared the mugs before returning to Harry, extending a hand. Tentatively, Harry took it.

“We can talk more in the morning,” Draco said, brisk but kind. “Let’s sleep, okay?”

Harry nodded quickly, “Yes, Draco,” he agreed.

“You use my name like a title,” Draco said as they were walking up the stairs. “I almost prefer when you used to call me a git and a spoilt twat.”

Harry’s breath caught briefly, even as he could hear the slight amusement in Draco’s voice. It sounded like a threat, like Draco was remembering how angry they used to get at each other, and Harry couldn’t think of calling Draco those things now without feeling sick. But Draco made no move to hurt him. _I’m not going to hurt you, please try to believe me,_ Draco had said. So Harry tried.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said carefully. He didn’t know what Draco wanted to hear.

“I called you worse,” Draco replied offhandedly, without having seen Harry’s confusion over the comment.

They’d reached the bedroom that Draco had given Harry and Draco went in to turn on the lights with Harry trailing behind. Draco turned to go and Harry stared after him.

“Draco?” he called quietly, twisting his hands in the bottom of the shirt Draco had given him. The magic shifted uneasily inside him, not liking him calling his owner back but Harry, for once, fought it.

Draco came back inside, his eyebrows lifted slightly. His white-blond was a rumpled wave and he looked tired, but his eyes were warm and Harry met them hesitantly. Harry tried to fix Draco’s words in his head, _I’m not going to hurt you, please try to believe me,_ and tried to summon together his courage.

“Will you stay?” Harry said, chewing his lip. Bellatrix’s spell jabbed him sharply in the abdomen and he winced, ducking his head to hide his discomfort.

Seeing Draco leave the room had made fear jerk inside of him, terrified that Draco would walk out and it would be Bellatrix who would walk back in in the morning, coming to take him away.

“Yeah- I mean, are you sure?” Draco said, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Or maybe he didn’t want anything more to do with Harry- Harry nodded before the magic could stop him. “Alright,” Draco said, “I’ll get some bedding then. Camp on the floor.”

Harry shook his head immediately, unable to articulate how bad, wrong, horrible that was – the idea of having his owner on the _floor_ while he was on the bed. Draco stilled. “No?” he said slowly. Harry blinked and twisted his hands. Fuck, fuck. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this- demanding things, it was wrong, he was bad.

Draco was suddenly in front of him, his hands brushing Harry’s arms lightly, and Harry didn’t remember him walking over. “Breathe, Harry,” he said, worried. “It’s okay? Where do you want me, huh? You want to share the bed?”

Harry tried to drag the fractured remains of his brain back together to _think_ but he couldn’t manage more than, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- whatever you want, I’m sorry.” The magic Bellatrix had put on him was angry with him and it sent pains through his ribs and belly.

Draco looked more worried. “Okay,” he said, as if to himself, “decision making isn’t good, we’ll avoid that. How about- Harry, I’m going to share the bed with you, shake your head if you don’t like that.”

Harry released a breath, relieved as the pain dissipated. This was better. He kept his head still.

“So that’s okay?” Draco checked. “Nod if it’s okay.” Harry nodded hesitantly and was rewarded with a soft smile. “Alright, great, we’ll get through this. Um, go lie down.”

The uncertainty on Draco’s face showed his unease with giving orders but it released some tension in Harry to know exactly what his owner wanted. Perhaps it was the magic, perhaps it was just him, he didn’t know, but he felt beyond relieved when he went to lie down.

Draco walked away to get the lights before muttering ‘Lumos’ to light his wand as he came back over to the bed. Harry eyed the wand with wariness. Before Bellatrix, Harry hadn’t understood the sheer number and range of sadistic spells there were, beyond _crucio_. _Crucio_ remained the worst pain he had ever felt, every time he felt it, which had been on a semi-regular basis when she’d had him, but Bellatrix had had spells that made him believe there were leeches covering him, and another that made him unable to sleep. Harry thought that Bellatrix had created the cruellest, weirdest spells and potions herself, simply to try them out on him.

Draco extinguished the light, setting his wand down with an audible click on the bedside table before Harry felt a dip in the mattress and the shuffling of the duvet as Draco got in beside him.

“Harry?” Draco said out of the darkness.

“Yeah? Draco?” Harry responded softly.

“This okay?”

Harry nodded, before he remembered that Draco couldn’t see him, “Yes, Draco,” he said softly. “Thank you.” _For everything. For being kind._

Draco was silent for several seconds and Harry listened to his quiet breathing. “Can I hold your hand?” Draco said suddenly, rushed, before he coughed awkwardly. “Merlin, I sound like a first year, but I just, I’m not gonna molest you or anything I swear, I’d just be nice to know where you are, you know, Harry?”

Harry smiled slowly, genuinely, for the first time in a long time, “I’d like th-” the magic inside him briefly strangled him, disliking his phrasing, so he said, “Of course, Draco,” instead. He extended his fingers slightly in Draco’s direction but couldn’t make the first contact, waiting for Draco to find him.

He startled slightly when Draco did, but when Draco curled his fingers around Harry’s and squeezed them slightly, Harry relaxed. It would be okay. Draco wasn’t going to get rid of him, not tonight anyway.

With a soft sigh, Harry fell asleep with Draco’s fingers interlaced with his, clinging onto his last hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Hated it? loved it? felt completely apathetic about it? tell me! :D


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